


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by lornrocks



Category: Fandom: Heroes
Genre: Christmas, Coffee, M/M, Romance, Slash, Snow, Songfic, Winter, adventcalendar, petlar, pylar, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cold, Sylar wants to leave, Peter thinks he should stay. Obviously, listen to the song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

There's a knock on the door five minutes before Peter is about ready to leave for his shift, and he hesitates for a moment before heading over to open it. Standing there, half covered in quickly melting snow, is someone he wasn't even sure he'd ever see again.

"Hi," Sylar says, raising a gloved hand, and Peter can't help it; He smiles.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Peter knows they're the wrong ones, but he's quick to add, "I thought you would have gone away from here."

Sylar shakes his head.

"I couldn't leave without saying thank you," he replies, simply, and holds up a small wrapped package.

Peter looks at it, surprised, and carefully reaches out and takes it from the other man. He motions towards his apartment with his head.

"Do you want something to drink? It looks like it's really snowing outside."

They end up leaning against the counters in the kitchen, sipping hot coffee (Peter) and hot chocolate (Sylar), neither of them saying anything. A sharp gust of wind makes something hit the window and they both snap up, startled.

"I should be getting to work," Peter says, glancing at his watch, and before he can move away, Sylar holds up a hand.

"Can I?"

Peter's not sure what the other man is asking, but he nods his consent, and waits as the other man gently takes his left wrist in both of his hands and brings it up to his ear, listening to the medic's watch as it ticks. For several long seconds, they stand there, Sylar with his eyes closed and Peter watching him.

"Stay here," Peter blurts, and the other man's eyes open.

"What?"

"Stay here instead of going...wherever it is that you go. Please. It's warm and dry here, and you can eat something-"

"-Thank you, Peter, but I can't. I don't want you to feel obligated to be nice to me."

For a split second, Peter has the urge to roll his eyes, but he pushes it back when he realizes the other man hasn't moved.

"I don't feel obligated. Please, just...I'll feel better knowing you're here, safe."

When Sylar just stares back at him, one eyebrow slightly raised, he sighs, "It's cold outside."

"If you start singing, I'm going to leave for sure."

The sudden change in the mood surprises Peter, who actually laughs and gently shoves the other man.

"Well, I'm going to be super late for my shift now. You'll be here when I get back, right?"

Just before he heads out the door, he turns back around.

"Right?"

Sylar is looking at the ground, but he still nods his head.

"Right."

Peter leaves, satisfied that he'll still have a house guest when he gets off work, and heads through the ridiculous winter storm towards the hospital. He gets through his shift with some anxiousness, earning concern from his partner ("You look like you've seen a ghost, Pete") and finally makes his way back to his place just around 3 AM.

He enters his apartment quietly, not sure what to expect, but when he catches sight of a large silhouette on his bed, he can't help but lean in the doorway and look. Sylar is curled up asleep on his bed, the comforter twisted around his legs and his hair sticking up in ridiculous angles. Sleeping, he looks so...innocent.

Peter's walked around the bed and is leaning on the side before he even realizes that he's reaching over and gently touching the other man's cheek. When Sylar doesn't stir, he lifts his hand and runs his fingers across one eyebrow, down the side of his face and curving along his jawline.

Sylar's eyelids flutter for a moment before he opens his eyes all the way and looks at Peter imploringly. The medic responds by kicking his shoes off and nudging Sylar until he scoots over and stops hogging the covers. Once they're both settled again, staring awkwardly at the ceiling, Peter turns his head to glance at his friend.

"You stayed."

"I said I would, Peter."

Peter moves over until their shoulders are touching and settles back into the covers, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I never thought I'd say this, but...I'm glad. Thank you."

The other man only hums in response, and Peter realizes he's falling back asleep. It's only when he opens his eyes a few hours later that he realizes that he was sleeping, too. He sits up, heads over to the window, and peaks through the blinds. Turning back to his bed, he nudges the man still sleeping there.

"Hey," nudge, "Hey. It snowed a million feet last night."

Sylar cracks open an eye.

"It's too early in the morning for hyperbole," he mumbles, but rolls over and sits up anyway.

"Coffee?"

Sylar only nods groggily, so Peter heads to the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee bubbling. Just as he's about to head out, he catches sight of the small gift from the day before sitting on his kitchen table, and he picks it up. There's a small note attached, which reads _Happy birthday and Merry Christmas, Peter. -G._ on it. He runs his hand across the front of the box and smiles, turning to see Sylar standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Are you going to open it?"

Peter shakes his head.

"My birthday isn't for three days."

He hands a mug of coffee to his house guest and they sit there, sipping for a minute, before Sylar puts the mug down on the table in front of him.

"I really should be going now."

Peter quirks an eyebrow.

"There has got to be at least three feet of snow outside. There's no way I'm letting you go out there and get stuck in a snow bank and then freeze to death."

"I can't freeze to death."

"You know what I mean, _Gabriel_."

Peter watches, fascinated, as several different emotions flit across the other man's face and he tilts his head to the side.

"If I stay here, people are going to get suspicious."

He's not sure what the hell is coming over him; Maybe it's the exhaustion still lingering in his bones, or the way the other man is looking at him, or even just their history, leading up til now, but Peter can't help but blurt, "Your lips look delicious."

"What?"

Except the word gets cut off by Peter closing the gap between them and kissing him with a passion reminiscent of old black and white movies.

He pulls away and looks up with unsure eyes, but when Sylar- Gabriel - tangles his hands in his his hair and tugs him back in for another kiss, Peter figures that he's not going to get murdered anytime soon.

This time, when they pull away, Peter asks, "How long are you going to be staying?"

Gabriel shrugs, reaching up to push Peter's bangs away from his eyes.

"I was hoping indefinitely."

Peter leans back in and outside, the snow continues to pile up around them. Not that they notice, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Peter/Sylar Advent Calendar in 2010.


End file.
